


First Meeting

by QueenAng



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Other, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenAng/pseuds/QueenAng
Summary: Wheeljack's first time meeting Starscream was, despite the circumstances, not a wholly negative encounter.
Relationships: Starscream/Wheeljack (Transformers)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 69





	First Meeting

It wasn’t often – thank Primus – that Wheeljack had to witness the atrocities of their war from the front lines. He was better utilized far back, in a (usually underground) laboratory a safe distance away from his peers, kept company by Perceptor and Brainstorm and the other non-combatants.

He was not unaware of what was going on outside his laboratory door. Before Cybertron fell into anarchy, he had watched the news feeds showing the chaotic skirmishes, slowly growing more and more violent each passing cycle. He had listened to Jazz’s reports to High Command about the state of the Decepticon territories. He had seen and clinically analyzed the aftermath of his own weapons on the battlefield.

But, sometimes, the front lines came to him.

The Autobot’s base had been relatively hard to find, even for Autobots searching to join Optimus Prime at his base of command. The organic planet they had crashed on to was rife with thick, leafy jungles and watery mud. Nothing with any semblance to roads sliced through the foliage. Most Autobots were grounded at the base, with the exception of the flyers.

So, really, it was no surprise the Seekers had managed to locate them. By some sheer luck, Wheeljack was in the command room, sheltered beneath a computer terminal, when the first bombs dropped and collapsed the ceiling of what used to be their lab. Upon hearing the alarm klaxons, Prowl had simply stated it was an inevitability. Optimus ordered an immediate evacuation to the Ark, dragging Prowl up the ramp alongside him as the tactician protested the loss of his half-completed reports.

Wheeljack hesitated at the base of the ramp.

Perceptor cast him a baffled look. “Hurry,” the sniper said. “We don’t have the luxury of enjoying the scenery before we depart.”

Wheeljack took a step back. “Schematics,” he muttered.

“Pardon?”

“Schematics. I left the schematics for the Ark in the lab.”

Before Perceptor could argue, Wheeljack turned from the Ark and rushed back into the rapidly demolishing base. The lab’s ceiling had collapsed with the first round of fire from the Seekers. Organic matter and metal roofing had fallen into the room in a chaotic mixture. The centermost table, where the three of them kept their ongoing projects, was half-demolished under a metal beam.

Wheeljack leapt down into the pit and rushed over to the table. He began sweeping mounds of dirt and leaves and metal scraps off the table, searching for the schematics that held all the information the Decepticons could ever want on the Autobot flagship. It didn’t take him long to locate his former workspace – vanished beneath the base of the metal beam cutting across the room.

“Well, well, well. Looks like I’ve caught myself an Autobot.”

Slowly, Wheeljack rose to his pedes, keeping his servos at his side. His finials blocked his periphery, forcing him to turn fully around to view his attacker.

The two arm blasters aimed at his chassis caught his attention first. His optics followed the long arms up to where they connected to a shining red and white chassis. A cockpit ran down to a deceptively slim waist, below which two lithe, angular legs descended. The high heels of his thrusters, still hot from flight, seared the organic material coating the floor. Two sleek wings lofted high at his back, seeming so long and slim that Wheeljack couldn’t help but wonder how they supported him in flight. Bright red optics flared sinisterly against a dark grey face.

Wheeljack barely noticed a second Decepticon leaping down from ground-level to stand behind the Seeker. He was a hulking figure, all dark blue armor and blank red optics. Mud smeared his armor and branches stuck out from his transformation joints, a stark difference to the pristine armor of the Seeker.

“I’m a non-combatant,” Wheeljack said. He was surprised when his voice didn’t shake as he spoke. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Pity,” the Seeker said. “I always enjoy a good fight.”

Wheeljack heard the faint whirr of the second Decepticon’s weapons systems coming to life. He said, “I won’t be a good fight for you. I can’t fight. At all.” When the Seeker said nothing, he added, “I just want to get back to my friends.”

The Seeker lowered one of his arm blasters. A hip canted forward as his servo came to rest at the joint. “And why should I let you go, Autobot? What do I get?”

The large Decepticon’s armor flared. “Sta—”

The Seeker’s servo shot up to gesture for silence, and Wheeljack found himself regretting the loss of the pose. “Quiet. If I wanted your opinion, you useless collection of parts, I would have asked for it.” Narrow red optics fixed back on Wheeljack. “I asked _him_.”

Wheeljack cycled his optics, then realized the Seeker was waiting for him to say something. “You— uh. You… would get the satisfaction of doing a good thing?”

The Seeker laughed. He had a rough voice, and a higher laugh than Wheeljack expected to hear. It was something he would have attributed to the vocalizer of a courtesan, not a Decepticon Seeker. “I’m not one for doing good,” the Seeker said. He had a crooked grin on his faceplates, more akin to a smirk than a real smile. “Try again.”

Wheeljack’s processor spun nearly as quickly as his spark. He found himself less dedicated to contemplating ideas and more aware of the fact that, at least when he offlined, it would be to a pretty sight.

“I’m waiting,” the Seeker said.

“Because…” Wheeljack felt as though his processor had stalled. “Look, I ain’t good at these word games. My mechs are waiting for me.”

“Is that a threat?” the Seeker asked.

“A statement of fact,” Wheeljack replied.

The Seeker glanced between him and the wreckage of the lab, taking in the broken data-pads and shattered flasks, the singed wires of projects lost beyond repair. “You’re a scientist,” the Seeker noted.

“Engineer,” Wheeljack said.

His grey helm tilted. “And yet you ran from the safety of your ship back into a burning pile of rubble swarming with your sworn enemies.”

Wheeljack’s spark sank lower by the nano-klik. “There’s a reason I’m not s’pose to be left unsupervised.”

“You misunderstand. I’m impressed.” The Seeker’s other arm blaster lowered. “If Optimus Prime had your mettle every time he spotted Megatron, this war could have been over vorns ago. Perhaps you could impart some wisdom upon him, engineer.”

The idea of telling Optimus Prime how do to better in combat made about as much sense as telling Perceptor how to work a microscope.

“Tell me, engineer,” the Seeker said. “A scientist of your caliber must be used to analyzing a scene and accounting for variables. You are surrounded by prototype weapons. Why not pick one up and blast me?”

“I’m not gonna fight you.”

“How sweet.” A servo touched lightly against the glass of his cockpit. “I’m swooning. Are you going to offer me engex next?”

Wheeljack shrugged. “Don’t exactly have none to spare.”

“Shame. You seem like good company, engineer.”

If Wheeljack had managed to in-vent any excess air, that would have knocked it right out of him. Unbalanced, Wheeljack only managed, “Uh, yeah. You too.”

The Seeker’s smile was wan and knowing, a tad too playful considering the onlined arm blasters at his side.

A Seeker’s missile exploded against the hull of the Ark in the distance, briefly turning the horizon red and orange with redirected flames. The Ark let out a worrying groan.

The Seeker cast an uninterested glance toward the explosion before fixing his gaze back on Wheeljack. “I’ll take that as my cue,” he said, his thrusters coming back to life and wings spreading at his back. “My apologies, engineer. Looks like we’ll have to reschedule.”

Wheeljack’s optics cycled. “Um. Yes. Reschedule. Yeah.”

The Seeker’s mouth opened to say something else, something Wheeljack actually found himself looking forward to hearing, but in a nano-klik, his posture when from relaxed to a fighting stance, his arm blasters coming back up to shield his face-plates and aim at something behind Wheeljack.

“Back away,” came the cold, hard voice of Ultra Magnus. “This is your only warning, Starscream.”

“Starscream,” Wheeljack echoed numbly.

His Seeker – the second-in-command of the Decepticons – gave Ultra Magnus a chilly smile. “Magnus, so good to see you. How is your new division placement treating you?”

“Since you killed my entire team?” Magnus said.

“Does the benevolent Optimus Prime approve of that grudge of yours, Commander?”

Ultra Magnus said nothing more. Wheeljack heard his blaster coming to life and fell to his knees before the wave of energy shot towards Starscream. The Seeker moved faster than Wheeljack’s optics could catch, transforming from bipedal mode to a sleek fighter jet, already moving as a blur through the air. Magnus’s shot hit the hulking Decepticon behind Starscream square in the chassis, dropping him immediately to the ground. All that was left where Starscream stood was the smell of burning foliage and crackling ozone.

Wheeljack stayed put on the ground, trying to get his vents back in rhythm. Ultra Magnus crossed the distance between them, hauling Wheeljack to his shaking pedes.

“Do not _ever_ run back into a warzone again,” Magnus said. “Next time, Perceptor might not be lucky enough to catch a soldier willing to come back for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Got it.” Wheeljack didn’t bother to clarify how _not_ in danger he had felt. He figured that was part of what made Starscream such a deadly warrior – the ability to put his prey at ease.

As they hurried back to the ship, Wheeljack quashed any ideas he may have begun formulating about him and that odd Seeker. Starscream was legendary amongst the Decepticons; he had singlehandedly eliminated the Senate. Before that, he was the esteemed prince of Vos, the epitome of high society. If the rumors were to be believed – and Wheeljack trusted Jazz’s information with his life – then he regularly shared Megatron’s berth.

It was completely out of the question for the Decepticon second-in-command, the prince of Vos, Megatron’s lover, to have any sort of relationship with some Autobot engineer.

But he had to give Starscream credit, for being good enough to make him consider it, even for just a moment.


End file.
